12 Days
by TStabler
Summary: Christmas is approaching, bringing the end of what has been a long, difficult year for Elliot Stabler. It is also bringing with it some monumental changes for him, his partner, and his family. In the next twelve days, the Stablers will be faced with tremendous joy, and deep sorrow, which will test the true strength of their bonds. The triumphant return of my holiday fic series! EO
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Did you REALLY think I would abandon my annual holiday series? Psh.**

 **DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. You'd know if they were. I don't even think they're Dick Wolf's anymore, anyway. Hit it.**

 **12 Drummers Drumming**

"What is that?" Olivia yelled, kicking the door closed behind her, her face screwed up in pained wonderment. She looked at Elliot as she headed toward the kitchen, carrying two paper grocery bags. The loud noise made her cringe, her shoulders jerking with every bang and crash. "Seriously, what the hell is that?"

Elliot shouted to be heard as he helped her unpack the groceries. "Dickie!" he yelled. "His friend Rob gave him a drum set!"

Olivia's eyes widened, her mouth curled into an annoyed snarl. "Give it back!"

Elliot laughed, shaking his head. He sighed as he placed a package of steaks on the counter. "It's helping him, ya know? He's getting out his aggression, his tension…" he stopped yelling as the pounding of drums and clanging of snares ceased.

Both of them seemed to relax, relieved, and they shared a look. An understanding passed between them, a look of empathy, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

Wordlessly, they began to move around the kitchen, the clang of pots and pans replaced the bang of the drums. The beat of footsteps and chopping knives filled in the space vacated by the beat of sticks against resonant heads. Still quiet, they effortlessly worked with syncopation, a fine rhythm and perfected melody, cooking more than just steak and roasted potatoes.

"Hey," a groggy voice spoke, interrupting what would have been a steamy kiss over an open flame.

Elliot turned as Olivia simply tilted her head. "Hey, kid," he said to his son, offering a sad smile. "How was school?"

"I'm flunking AP Calc," Dickie muttered dryly. "And my Spanish teacher is _un toro furioso_."

Olivia squinted. "A raging bull?"

"Bitch," Dickie clarified, plopping into a chair at the kitchen counter.

"Hey, language," Elliot scolded.

Dickie grunted in response and shifted in his seat. He didn't move at all, though, when he felt Olivia's hand on his shoulder. He simply repeated, "A raging bitch."

Olivia squeezed his shoulder and said, "Well, you said _bull_ so…maybe pay more attention to her. You know, maybe that would make her less of a bitch." She kissed his cheek and winked at him when he finally turned to look at her. "Do your teachers know what's going on? Have you told them?"

He shook his head. Then, with a groan, he let his head drop into his hands. "My head is killing me. It feels like someone is…"

"Playing the drums in there?" Elliot finished.

Dickie turned to look at his father. "Oh, yeah, actually. Sorry if that bothered you before, I just needed to…hit something."

With a deep breath and dragged out sigh, Elliot nodded. "I know, kid. I feel like that a lot, too." He jabbed a fork into the sizzling steak, lifted it and flipped it, and as the sizzle grew louder, he said, "And I'm glad you found a way to vent, I am, but, uh, maybe move the venting into the garage?"

Dickie laughed. "Yeah, okay," he said with a nod. "Smells good in here." He swiveled his head and attention back to Olivia, who was still standing by him. "You staying for dinner?"

She bit here lip. "I don't…I don't think so. With everything going on, I don't know if I should…"

"We have to get used it, don't we?" Dickie interrupted. "I mean, Mom and Dad were separated for over a year. We all know he was with you." He blinked rapidly a few times as he decided how to say this. "We were living with her, some of us kinda hoped they'd work things out and we'd all move back here together, but the rest of us…we knew that it was over. Am I angry? Hell yes, but not…not at you, Liv. We live here, with Dad now, and I'm old enough to realize that…whether I'm ready for it or not…it means we live with you, too." He watched her stiffen, and for a moment he questioned it. "Or am I wrong?"

Elliot saw Olivia's discomfort, her unease, and he spoke so she didn't have to. "Liv hasn't moved in," he said, "Yet." He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "We, uh, we didn't want to take that step until everything was…final. You guys need to adjust to being back here, without your mother, and we all need to figure out how this works. Just you guys, and me."

"And Liv," Dickie said. He looked at his father as if he had given the wrong answer to a very simple question. "We all knew, long ago, that there would never be you…without Liv. When Mom left, we all just figured it was only a matter of time before…well, you know." He tried to slow the beating of his heart, which, he noticed, was rivaling the drum solo he had banged out in his room not too long ago. "What I'm saying, I guess, is…if it would be easier for you if she stayed, none of us would be that uncomfortable with it. She's always been there when we needed her, and now, I think I speak for everyone when I say, we all need her more than we ever have."

Olivia had tears in her eyes; she sniffled as she shot Elliot a look. She saw that he was staring at his son with pride and love in his eyes, and she knew he'd cry, too, if he let himself.

"That's sweet, kid," Elliot said, moving toward Dickie and giving him a half-hug as he sat in his chair.

Olivia turned, feeling almost as if she was invading a profound moment between a father and son. She turned off the heat, confident the steaks were perfectly cooked, and bent to take the potatoes out of the oven. She sighed and smiled when she felt strong arms loop around her waist as she straightened up. "Did he really just say all of that?"

"Yeah, he did," Elliot whispered to her. He kissed the back of her head and closed his eyes. "He grew up," he sighed.

"He's growing up," she corrected, "To be just like his father." She turned her head, over her shoulder, and kissed him softly. "I never thought he'd say anything like that, not about me." She gave a small, short shake of her head. "Not after the, uh, last time we had an actual conversation."

Elliot cringed, remembering the night he told his kids they needed to stay with their mother in Jersey until custody terms were settled. Dickie had taken it the hardest, and he'd glared at Olivia, blaming her, even going so far as to accuse her of suggesting it in the first place, shouting "So you could have the house, and Dad, all to yourself," before telling her he hated her and leaving the living room in a huff.

Of course, he'd apologized the next morning, but the memory still stung, and Elliot knew it was the real reason why Olivia hadn't said yes when Elliot asked her to move into the house, officially.

"Set the table," she said to him, breaking into his thoughts, kissing him quickly one more time.

His memory faded away as he furrowed his brow and flattened his smile. "Please," he sneered. "That's why we have kids," he told her with a wink. He kissed her again, and then moved back a bit as he yelled, "Kids! Dinner! Maureen! It's your turn to set the table!"

She laughed as she heard the kids trampling down the stairs. "They sound like a herd of angry cattle!" she chuckled.

"I think I'd rather hear Dickie play the drums," Elliot laughed.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't go that far," she said, still smiling. She pulled the steaks out of the pan and onto a platter, then lifted it with one hand and grabbed the tray of roasted potatoes with the other. She carried them through the archway to the dining room table, expertly side-stepping Elliot along the way. "You know, there are only twelve days until…"

"Christmas," Elliot interrupted. There was a new light in his eyes, a gleam that seemed to make the blue of them brighter and the whites of them clearer. "I know." He pulled her into his arms and smiled, sighing contentedly as he rested his chin on her shoulder and stared out into the living room at the lit tree. "I can't wait, Liv. Keeping it a secret…it's killing me."

She looped her arms around his, her hands wrapping around the bends of his elbows as he held her in place. She heard the kids shuffling into the room and heard Maureen clanging plates together. "I know it is," she sighed. She let her eyes settle where she knew his had, and she noticed, for the first time, how perfect the tree really was. Elaborately decorated, beautifully lit, brown twill ribbon and silver bells, red bows and every ornament the kids had made from kindergarten to high school, store bought ones that marked special occasions like the birth of each child and their first trip to Disneyland, newer ones that signified Olivia's place in his life, like the shiny metal twin police badges, a customized family of seven snowmen, emblazoned with the kids' names, Elliot's, and her own. At the top, an heirloom angel passed down through generations of Stablers, simple and faceless with broad lacy wings.

She was pulled from her reverie when Maureen bumped against her in an attempt to evenly space out the plates. "Sorry, Liv," the teen said sweetly, moving to the other side as the rest of the Stabler kids sat down.

Olivia looked around, smiling, her eyes pausing on each face, and then, one empty chair. She tilted her head. She turned a bit, and she said to Elliot, who was still holding her, "Where's Eli?"

As soon as she spoke, a loud crashing and banging filled the house, the ceiling light shook and the floor vibrated, and all four older children clutched their ears tightly, especially Dickie who was still nursing his headache.

Elliot ran up the stairs to stop the four-year-old from causing so much ruckus with Dickie's drum set. Olivia laughed to herself. This was her life now, and it filled a void within her that she didn't realize existed. When the silence hit, she sighed and looked back at the table of kids, slowly lowering their hands from the sides of their hands. "Christmas," she whispered to herself.

The day everything that had finally settled would change, all over again.

 **A/N: Uh-Oh! What? Want more? You know what to do. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have no words for the loss the world has suffered. Ayshen, a fellow writer, EO Shipper, Fandom friend, and one of the most important, special, selfless, inspirational people in the world passed away a few days ago at the age of 34. I have been having trouble dealing with it, but then I heard her voice in my head, because she would always tell me that writing was a great release, and it helps when words fail and emotions muddle. So because of her, for her, I write. I miss you, and I hope you are at peace, watching over your sweet babies who loved you so.**

 **DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. But I do enjoy playing with them; They're like Ken and Barbie, only more badass.**

 **Eleven Pipers Piping**

"Bagpipes," Elliot said, with a mouthful of gingerbread cookie dough.

Olivia swatted his hand away from the pile of dough, clicking her tongue. "No," she said firmly. "I agreed to give you traditional, but I draw the line at kilts and bagpipes." She slapped his knuckles as he reached for the dough again.

"Come on" he moaned. "How cool would it be to walk out of the church to the glorious sounds of melodic, lilting bagpipes."

"Oh, you are such an ass," she said, chuckling. She knew, now, he was kidding. She tilted her head as she began to roll out some of the dough. "Seriously, now, what do you want?"

He sighed. He folded his arms and bit the inside of his cheek for a bit. "I've been waiting for this…for you…for years. The only thing I want, the only thing I really need, is you showing up and saying 'I do,' when the priest asks you to."

She smiled, her eyes glazing over with pure love. "That won't be a problem." Her smile faded. "The problem is…what your kids are going to say when you tell them this is happening. You want to tell them on Christmas, that's eleven days from now, and if they have a problem with any of it, it'll ruin…"

"Liv," he interrupted, "Listen to me, okay? They're struggling with the divorce being final, and their mother moving three states away, but they are not struggling with this," he paused and took her hand. "With us." He ran the pad of his thumb along her knuckles and sighed. "They've had over a year to get to used to it, they know we've been together since Kathy left." He bit his lip. "Longer than that."

She gave a short, single laugh. "Yeah, but, uh, no one really knows about that." She reached over him for a pair of cookie cutters, and as she spoke, she pressed out gingerbread men and women. "What if they have…"

"I'm proposing to you, on the rug, in front of the fireplace, on Christmas, with my kids in the room," he detailed. "I've had it in my mind, this perfect picture moment, and it's going to happen." He stopped her hand as it pressed the cutter into the dough again. "If I had any doubt that they would be upset by it, it wouldn't be happening."

She held her breath as she stared back at him, his eyes darkening. She wriggled her hand beneath his, moving on with her cookie making, and said, "I believe you."

He moved his hand away from hers, grinning as he watched her lift the cut out cookies and carefully lay them on a parchment lined sheet pan. "These already look better than last year's," he said.

"I learned from my mistakes," she told him with a shrug. "These will hold up better under the pounds of frosting and candy your kids pile on top of them."

Their laughter filled the room, a pleasant sound that seemed to lighten the hearts of the five young people in the very next room. Lizzie, the youngest girl, leaned back on the sofa. "They sound happy," she mused, but her expression was stoic.

Maureen, the oldest child, smiled and nodded. "They do, don't they?"

Kathleen, the very middle child, looked around the room at the fresh pine garland lining the banister, the personalized stockings hung at perfect angles on the mantle, the tree in the corner of the room, so elegantly trimmed with what seemed to be countless wrapped packages beneath it. "It really feels like Christmas this year, despite everything."

Dickie grumbled but shrugged. "I guess it does," he said, letting out a relieved sigh. "I knew Mom and Dad were getting divorced, and I was okay with it. We all know it was for the best. But now she's moving to Massachusetts. It was okay when we were a couple of bus stops or a taxi ride away, but it's like she just…wants to be gone."

"That's not true," Olivia's voice called from the archway. She was wiping her hands on a towel, Elliot taking stance behind her. "Guys, listen, your mom isn't moving because she wants to be away from you. She's moving for a better job, and a new start, which she deserves. We all deserve one." She moved toward Dickie, tossing the towel on the coffee table, and she sat on the arm of the chair the teen was sitting in. "We had a hard year, and I think we all need to focus on the positive, let ourselves be happy."

Dickie nodded, but didn't look up at her. He knew she was right. He reached for the remote and changed the channel, flipping to a local news station covering a Christmas celebration.

Olivia turned toward Elliot and a smile slowly spread across her face. "Look, El," she said, jerking her head toward the television. "Santa's playing the bagpipes."

 **Ten Lords-A-Leaping**

The morning came too quickly, bringing with it the chaos of a large family.

"I can't find my right shoe!" one of the girls yelled. When they were angry, they all sounded the same, really.

Dickie growled as he leaped over a pile of clothes to get out of his room. "Where's my bookbag?" he called to whomever was in earshot.

Lizzie came out of her room carrying a wobbly pile of books. "Same question!" she yelled, trying to balance the tomes as she slowly headed for the stairs.

Olivia simply stood in the doorway of the bedroom she now officially shared with Elliot and watched the frenzy for a moment, until she gave a shrill whistle, stopping everyone in their tracks. "Enough," she said calmly. She looked at Lizzie. "You left your bookbag by the computer downstairs, and Dickie," she said, pointing at the boy, "Yours is in the dryer, you spilled soda on it, remember?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Dickie said sheepishly. He and Lizzie walked down the stairs now that their problems were solved.

Olivia took a few steps into the hallway as she secured her gun and badge at her hip. "Which one of you is missing a shoe?" she said, walking into the room Maureen shared with Kathleen. She watched Kathleen raise her hand, then asked, "Which shoe?"

"Blue pump," she said, holding up the single high-heeled shoe she did have.

"Katie, the reason you can't find the other one is because those are mine," Olivia rubbed her forehead. "It's probably in the bottom of the closet in your father's room. Just…go get it."

Kathleen smiled. "Thanks," she said, hopping out of the room and across the hall.

Maureen shook her head. "Only a few more months, then I get my own place at school, and I don't have to deal with her anymore." She raised both brows and sighed, grabbed her bag, and left the room.

Olivia laughed to herself and walked back into the hallway, planning to head downstairs to grab a cup of coffee before she headed out with Elliot, but a brawny body stopped her midway to the stairway. She blinked up at her wall. "Hey," she said, crooking an eyebrow at him.

"You're amazing," he said, and then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "So amazing."

"Am not," she said, rolling her eyes. She elbowed him to nudge him out of the way.

"You are," he told her as he grabbed her arm. He pulled her back to him and kissed her lips. "You handle them like no one else, not even me, and you calm them down in seconds. I would just…make them more agitated."

She shrugged. "You'd just yell, and they're used to you yelling." She kissed him slowly, deeply, and when she pulled away she said, "You still make my heart leap when you kiss me."

"And I plan to do that for the rest of my life," he whispered. He kissed her one last time before giving her a small shove in the direction of the stairs. She took the first two and he took a shaky breath as she faded from his view. "Ten days," he said, placing a hand over his jumping heart.

He couldn't wait.

 **A/N: A new chapter will hopefully be up tomorrow. Until then, spend time with the ones you love, and realize what blessings they truly are. I love you all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: 7 Days till Christmas…**

 **DISCLAIMER: These characters don't belong to me. The story and words do.**

 **Nine Ladies Dancing**

"Are you serious?" she asked, popping a piece of a broken cookie into her mouth.

He nodded. "I want to," he told her. "I didn't the first time, and years of Marine and Policemen's Galas haven't exactly made me the next winner of Dancing With the Stars." He took a piece of Olivia's broken cookie, laughing when she shot him a disdainful look. "You want our first dance to be amazing, right?"

"Of course, but it would be amazing, even if you stepped on my toes and fell on your ass twice, "she said, laughing. "It doesn't need to be choreographed, it just needs to be…"

"I want it to be special," he interrupted. He reached for her hand, and as he grabbed it, he felt a bit of cookie fall from her fingers. He chuckled and moved closer to her. "Dance with me."

"Now?" she asked, confused.

He nodded and began to get out of his seat, pushing the bench back underneath the kitchen counter. He pulled her up, then, and tugged her closer. He held her hand still as his other arm looped around her waist and he began to hum.

She grew lost in him, in his arms, in the way he moved her, in the sound of his voice. She smiled and lowered her head to his shoulder. "You don't need lessons," she said. "This is perfect."

"Well," he began, "If you say so." He kissed the crown of her head and went back to humming, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes watching them from the steps.

Elliot's three daughters looked at the sight before them, their father and Olivia dancing to a song only they could hear. Maureen leaned over to the other two and whispered, "I don't understand how they honestly believe we don't know what's going on."

Kathleen shook her head as she laughed silently at her sister. "We just have to pretend we don't, for a few more days. Dad wants the perfect proposal, and we owe it to him to give it to him."

Lizzie yawned and dropped her head to Kathleen's knee. "We owe it to Liv, too, after everything she's done for us." She listened to her sisters hum in agreement, but then let out a soft snort and said, "But I really wish Liv would have agreed to dancing lessons."

 **Eight Maids-A-Milking**

"That was a horrible experience," Dickie complained, wiping his hands on his thighs, dirt and muck rubbing off on his jeans.

"You say that every year," his twin sister, Lizzie, griped.

Dickie sneered at her. "Because it's a horrible experience every year," he explained. "Besides, Eli is the only one who still believes in Santa, so I don't see why we all have to…"

"Family tradition," Elliot interjected, sounding stern but smiling. He was holding Eli, his youngest child, so far, and trying to shield him from the conversation his older kids were having. He lowered his voice and said, "You're just mad the cow kicked you."

Dickie rolled his eyes and plopped himself into the nearest bench. He took a deep breath and a good look around, taking in the sights. Other families with small children finding the perfect tree, mothers and fathers helping their children milk cows, as he had done, and several children hovered around a table where a woman dressed like Missus Claus was helping them decorate cookies. He let himself smile, realizing the farm did hold a lot of his favorite childhood memories. He looked back to Eli, smiling and clapping in his father's arms, and for a moment, he felt that young again. "Hey, squirt," he said, getting to his feet again. He reached out to Eli and grabbed him. "Come with your big bro, for a second," he said.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, but let Eli go, confident that Dickie had a solid hold on him. He watched his oldest son carry his youngest over to the cookie table. "Well, how about that," Eliot mused.

Olivia had come up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "It's a Christmas Miracle," she said, and then she kissed his neck.

He closed his eyes and covered her arms with his. "He was right, you know," he said. "Eli is the only one of the kids that still believes in Santa Claus."

Olivia grinned, pulled him around to face her, and kissed him. "Not for long."

 **Seven Swans-A-Swimming**

"And out here," a dapper looking man in a tuxedo said as he pushed open a pair of glass doors, "Is where your flower girl will toss rose petals into the pond." He clapped his hands together and gave a dramatic sigh. "Can't you see it? Seven gorgeous white swans swimming around as the petals fall around them? Like a fairy tale, no?"

"No," Olivia said flatly. "What? Just…no." She shook her head and looked at Elliot. "A, we don't have any friends with young girls who could be a flower girl, and B…swans? A pond filled with swans? Who's getting married, exactly? Two cops, or Paris Hilton?"

Elliot laughed. "I promised John we'd at least look at this place," he whispered. "His second brother-in-law runs it, so think of it as a favor. It isn't really on the list." He kissed her cheek and winked at her as they continued along the cobblestone path toward an arched wooden bridge.

The man spoke endlessly about the trees and blossoming bushes, but Olivia wasn't listening. "This is all a little…much." She shook her head. "It's beautiful, though, just…too much."

Elliot looked around, being taken in by the man's words, painting the picture of what this would all look like in the spring. "We can tell him no swans, and no flower girl."

"No life-sized ice-sculptures, no crystal chandeliers over every table, no flying doves after the vows," Olivia listed, rolling her eyes. "If we could just rent this place for the ceremony, have a small buffet table set up inside, no flashy extras…"

"Excuse me," Elliot said, cutting off both Olivia and the over-excited wedding planner. "What's the most basic package you offer?"

The man looked stunned, as if he'd never heard the words 'basic package' before, and he threw one hand over his chest, appearing offended. "Um, well, Sir, the most…" he paused to build the courage to say the word, "basic package we have is simply the outdoor ceremony, weather permitting, and an extremely simple dinner in the hall." He seemed to gag as he spoke. "Everything is so…plain."

"And how much per person is this very simple, plain plan?" Olivia said, a light igniting in her eyes.

"You sure you don't want the Princess Package? It includes a horse-drawn carriage and…" the man stopped as he saw the looks Olivia and Elliot were giving him. "Very well. The basic package is seventy dollars per person. You pay for the full count, no refunds if they don't show up."

Olivia looked at Elliot, smiling, and then her eyes traveled up the trunk of the large cherry tree in front of her. She imagined what it would look like in the spring, in full bloom. Her breath hitched and she felt a slow shiver run down her spine. "Perfect," she whispered, and as her lips touched Elliot's, she thought maybe the swans wouldn't be too much, after all.

 **A/N: Want more? You know what to do. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: 4 Days till Christmas…**

 **DISCLAIMER: These characters don't belong to me. The story and words do.**

 **Six Geese A-Laying**

"So that's everything," Olivia said, plopping down on the couch, exhausted. "I didn't realize cleaning out an apartment would be that much work."

Elliot chuckled and pulled her closer to him, laying them down together. "Well, you spent a lotta years in this apartment." He kissed her damp forehead. "You collected a lotta stuff," he said, his lips still against her skin. He moved them down her face until he caught her mouth with his.

She moaned as she felt his left hand snake up her tee shirt, his fingertips gripping the flesh of her bare back. She hummed against his lips, shivering as she felt is fingers move lower and dance with the waistband of her sweatpants.

"Think we should say goodbye to the place," he whispered harshly. He tugged down hard, exposing the skin of her hips. He kissed her again, this time hiking her body up with his hips and sliding the thick cotton down her legs.

She took his cue, fiddling with his belt buckle and working open the fly of his jeans. She moaned again, when his fingers slipped between her thighs. "Elliot," his name came out of her opened mouth like a prayer.

He chuckled again, taking pride in how he affected her, how he made such a strong woman become putty in his hands. He gasped when he felt one of her hands wrap around his shaft and pull him free from his briefs and jeans. "Fuck," he said, almost a cough, as his hips bucked upward.

It was her turn to laugh, and she did as she ran the pad of her thumb over his tip, her nail slipping into the slit and making him seethe.

Unable to wait anymore, he grabbed her hips and moved her up on his body, setting his aim and thrusting hard, catching her yell in his mouth. Once he began to rock, a steady rhythm, he moved one of his hands up the front of her shirt and grabbed hold of her left breast. He squeezed and rolled her nipple between his fingers, pinching every so often, loving the small yelps it caused.

"Damn, baby," he said, licking his dry lips. He blinked and refocused, watching her face contort with each clash of his pelvis against hers. He craned his neck and kissed her again, his other hand moved around to her back and down to her ass, holding her down. He worked harder, thrust with more force, earned higher-pitched moans from her which were swallowed by his kiss.

She rocked against him, faster with every breath she took, and she growled out his name over and over. This wasn't going to last much longer, but, fuck, she didn't want it to end.

"Come on, baby," he whispered, his voice like hot gravel. He held her down harder, grinding with each thrust, knowing he was bringing her so very close to the edge.

She held on until it felt as though her skin was burning off, and finally, with one hard rock into him, she cried out his name and went completely still.

He met her at the end, shooting hotly into her, and he felt her shake and tremble. He held her, kissing her wildly. He moaned and cursed into their kiss when he felt hot wetness run down his inner thigh. Slowly, they calmed, and he kept her in place as he kissed her back into full consciousness.

She nuzzled him as she settled against him. "God, El," she whispered.

He laughed and lazily toyed with her hair. "Always so fucking incredible," he said. He took a deep, slow breath, and then said, "I want to lay here, with you, like this, for as long as possible."

She murmured her agreement, but when her eyes settled on the clock, she realized it wouldn't be long at all. She felt him twitch inside of her, though, and sighed. Not long, no, but absolutely perfect.

 **Five Golden Rings**

"So how many ex-wives is it now?" Fin asked his partner, a smirk on his face.

Munch's weathered face twisted up in a disappointed frown. "Five," he said as he licked an envelope. He sealed it and said, "I just can't seem to make them stick." He tossed the sealed letter onto a pile of outgoing mail and shook his head. "There's something wrong with me," he declared.

"Nah," Elliot said, spinning around in his chair. "Nothing's wrong with you. You just haven't found the one, yet," he told Munch. "When you do, you'll know, and, uh, you'll make it stick."

"Spoken like a man who's only been married once," Munch quipped. He looked over at Elliot, and then glanced at Olivia. "You gonna make it twice?"

Elliot smiled, leaned back, and shrugged. "Who knows?" he asked facetiously. He looked toward Olivia. "I'm not the deciding factor, there."

Munch sighed. "You're lucky, though. Married or not, you've got someone who loves you, knows you inside and out and still loves you." He raised his arms and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I haven't found that, yet, and I don't think I will."

"You got time, man," Fin said, and he eyed Elliot, noticing the dreamy looks passing between him and Olivia. "You got time."

 **Four Calling Birds**

"Of course," Olivia said, a snippy tone in her voice. "We would get handed a case like this right before Christmas."

"We just need to field calls, ferret out the bullshit, find the bastard," Elliot said. He looked up at her and saw the disappointment on her face, and he softened. "It won't be long, I promise."

"Four days," she whispered. "We were supposed to have tomorrow and Friday off, the weekend with the kids, the week to just be a…"

"Family," he finished in a soft voice. He took a deep breath and sighed, and he tried to smile. "Listen to me, okay? Munch and Fin are out there, canvassing, and if we wheedle out the nonsense from facts as these calls come in, then we will be home before you know it." He reached over his desk to hers and grabbed her hand gently.

She gave it a squeeze and tried to smile at him, and just as she opened her mouth to say something, the phone on her desk rang. She gave it a disapproving glare before answering the call. "Special Victims," she said curtly. "Benson. No, no, we're looking for a white male in his forties, not…yeah, thank you." She hung up and shot Elliot a look.

He laughed as his own phone rang. "Special Victims, Detective Stabler." He listened for a moment and then grinned. "Great, thank you, two guys will be right down. Hold him. Thanks, again." He slammed the phone down, waited a beat, and then picked it up to dial Fin's number. He looked at Olivia. "What'd I tell ya?" He winked at her, then he sat upright and spoke to Fin. "Hey, it's me. Our perp got pinched b the two-nine, trying to use the vic's credit card at a smoothie place. It was flagged, they got called, he's in holding down there right now. I know, man, a Christmas Miracle." He laughed as he hung up and shot another look at Olivia.

She smiled. "four more days," she thought to herself, "And then life really begins."

 **A/N: Want more? You know what to do. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Merry Christmas (Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanza, Joyous Tidings, Merry Yule) and a very Happy New Year. I have been battling a bad virus for weeks now, my whole family has been sick. I've finally felt well enough to write the end of this story. May 2017 be filled with blessings for all of you.**

 **DISCLAIMER: These characters don't belong to me. The story and words do.**

 **Three French Hens**

"Last case of the year," Munch said, slumping backward in his chair.

Fin rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself," he grumbled. "I'm one of the lucky ones that's gotta stay and work through the holiday." He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Rapists don't take the day off, ya know. I'm still not even sure how the three of you managed to get the whole week paid leave."

Olivia scoffed. "We never take vacation days," she said. "I got enough time saved to take a six month sabbatical in Europe, and I can say the same about Elliot. John probably could take a whole year off, if he wanted to, so we put in for the time."

Fin let out a huff and mumbled. "Guess you're right. But now I'm stuck here with the second-string team."

Elliot gave him a sad smile. "Sorry, man," he said, but then he looked down at the file on his desk. "What a way to end the year, huh?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Never would've been able to nail the bastard without Liv." He looked at his partner, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the tremendous love in his eyes.

Munch nodded, agreeing with Elliot, and then said, "I didn't know you spoke French so fluently." He blinked. "Doesn't surprise me, I just didn't know."

Elliot laughed and looked at the older man. "Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about her, John."

"I figured," Munch chuckled. "I knew by the look on her face when she was interrogating that French son of a bitch, that there was still a lot of mystery to our Detective Benson. Bet there's a thing or two you don't even know about her, Stabler."

Elliot grinned. "Sure there is," he said. "Couple of things." He knew, though, that he would spend the rest of his life learning each and every one of them.

 **Two Turtle Doves**

"Ohh," Maureen gasped, opening a small black box that had been dropped off with the mail. "This is so pretty!" She held up the fogged crystal ornament to show her dad and Olivia, who were cuddled on the couch.

Olivia sat up straight and tilted her head. "Wow," she said, "That really is…who, uh, who sent it?" She got up and walked toward the girl, carefully taking the ornament from her.

Maureen shook her head up at Olivia. "Don't know," she said. "There's no card. No label, or anything."

"What is it, Liv?" Elliot asked, still in his spot on the couch.

Olivia smiled and ran a finger along the detailed wing of one of the shimmering birds. "Turtle doves," she said. "Two of them. They're kissing," she said, smiling. She walked back toward the sofa and sat again, holding the ornament out for Elliot to see.

"Turtle doves," he repeated. "Like the ones in that song?"

Olivia nodded. "They're known for showing great affection to their mate, and they're completely monogamous. They mate for life."

Elliot laughed. "Well, someone certainly knows us, then, don't they?"

Lizzie, from a seat at the dining room table, stopped her homework for a moment and said, "They're symbols of true love and faithfulness. Shakespeare made many references to them, when it came to romantic scenes in his plays."

"Thank you, Encyclopedia Brown," Elliot laughed, taking the ornament out of Olivia's hand. "This really is gorgeous. I'd love to know where it came from." He turned it over, letting it lay upside-down in his palm, and he noticed a date engraved on the very bottom of the left side. "Oh. I…I know who sent it." The tip of his thumb ran over the gold leaf numbers.

"El?" Olivia prodded, noticing how silent and stoic he'd become.

"My mother," he said. He showed her the date and said, "That's the day my parents got married." He leaned in and kissed Olivia's forehead. "She must know," he whispered to her.

Olivia watched as Elliot got up and walked with the doves toward their tree. She smiled, watching as he found a bare bough and fitted the ribbon over the pine needles. The sentiment of the ornament, the meaning behind it and who sent it, filled her with love and reassured her that marrying Elliot truly was right, and every doubt she'd had faded away on the wings of two turtle doves.

 **And a Partridge in a Pear Tree**

"Well, guys, we made more of a mess this year than I can ever remember," Elliot said, chortling. He held Olivia in his arms as he sat with her on the carpet by the fireplace.

Dickie smiled. "Our Christmas Eve gifts were a lot bigger this year," he shrugged. "More paper and ribbon means more of a mess."

"Hey wait," Kathleen said, pausing with a large black garbage bag in one hand and a crumpled ball of wrapping paper in the other. "Olivia didn't open one."

"Oh? Really?" Elliot said smugly. "He reached behind him and grabbed a small wrapped package. "We can fix that." He kissed her and whispered. "Open it, baby."

She held her breath and looked at him with a question in her eyes. She saw him nod only once, and with trembling hands, she began to peel the paper back.

"Did you get her another pair of earrings?" Maureen asked. "She doesn't even wear the ones you got her last year."

"Yes, she does," Elliot said, "And no, I didn't get her earrings." He bit his lip and kept his eyes on her, watching anxiously as she finally tore away the last bit of paper. He took the box, his own hands shaking now, and held it out to her. He lifted the hinged velvet lid and heard everyone in the room gasp, except, of course, for Eli, who was busy playing with a cardboard box.

Olivia couldn't stop the tears, even though she knew weeks ago that this was happening, her emotions in the moment were unstoppable. "Elliot," she whispered. The ring had taken her breath away.

Elliot cleared his throat, trying to stop his own tears from forming, and he pulled the simple, sweet solitaire diamond out of the box. Holding it between two fingers, he found Olivia's eyes again, and he spoke. "You've had my heart in your hands since the moment we met. I didn't realize how quickly I had given it to you until it was way too late, and by then I…I didn't want it back."

The kids were stunned, all sitting now, in a row on the sofa, watching and listening as Elliot continued.

"I knew, maybe before you did, that you'd done the same, given me yours, trusted me with it, and I did everything in my power to keep it safe, protect it. Protect you. And I swear, Liv, I will love, honor, and protect you for the rest of our lives if you'll promise to do the same for me. Marry me, Liv."

Tears freely flowing now, Olivia could do little more than nod. Elliot slipped the ring on her finger and a happy sob escaped. She threw her arms around him, kissed him deeply, and let the reality of finally having stability in her life hit her.

The kids looked away, giving them this moment as they wiped tears of their own. "Merry Christmas," Kathleen said, laughing as she cried.

Cupping Elliot's face in her hands, between kisses, Olivia said, "The merriest."

 **A/N: Happy Holidays, Happy New Year. Love to you all.**


End file.
